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crescentview2023-02-01 01:02 pm
yourlenore) wrote in crescentview2023-02-01 01:02 pm
Fall Catchall
Who: Mishka & friends
What: Bingo, Arco Lunar, misc.
When: Fall
Where: Out & About
Warnings: ???
stand up with my palms full of soil & rosary
bruised rosary
blooming rosary
maybe I just need to smoke more & stretch & eat frivolous things &
anyway
I’m working on it
trahearne
Accept how you feel without judgment, Kaspar had said. This is difficult, because feeling itself is vulnerable.
Well, Adelis has Syrlya, and Adelis will have to hope he will have more than just Syrlya soon enough, and that is that.
Trahearne meets Mishka two mimosas in and generally cheery. He's a little tipsy, but generally himself, and he suggests his date—the one by the one he'd been won by—had come apart in some organic way, so why not walk, and talk? He is fortunately quite agreeable in his manner, as always, and when the suggestion of the spa & massage is floated, he finds himself enthusiastic to try it (well, try anything, really).
For what it's worth, it does improve his mood a significant amount. The attendants' hands work into him with technique that leaves even his insects content and hush. By the time they finish their work, he feels sore, but satisfied.
Assuming this is a couples' massage for perhaps obvious reasons, Mishka's body is notable for both its scars (perhaps expected for someone who knew a life of combat) and for the black, leaf-like veins that web outward from his chest and down along his limbs and body, the marks a fainter charcoal-grey the further from the source they run. There is a faint impression of his bones in black where the veins run, as if they've drawn the bones to press up against the skin, leaving marks.
They're likely to just be weird tattoos, certainly.
Mishka sits up as his masseuse finishes their work, stretching with a satisfied sound. Perhaps he should have visited this place before he tried the mimosas. )
Well, that wasn't so bad at all. How did you like it?
no subject
Which is how he encounters Mishka two mimosas deep, much to his own pleasant surprise. He'd not expected to see any close familiar faces on this day on the boat, fully expecting to spend his time apart from the other two alone. Of all the people he could have run into, he's, quite honestly, happiest to see Mishka--he remains blissfully unaware that his second-in-command is somewhere else on this ship with his dhampir date. Hopefully, it remains that way.
The massages are nice, in a weird way. The techniques are meant to soften and relax mammalian muscle, which is quite obvious, and Trahearne doubts the efficacy to relax his sylvari limbs. Yet surprisingly, he finds himself refreshed and happier all the same. Part of him wants to question it, but a smaller and louder part tells him not to worry about it.
It would take much too long to regrow his leafy coverings, so he asks the masseuse for a bathrobe. As he slips it on, the odd discomfort of fluffy fabric over his limbs dissolving beneath the pure contentment that came from the massage aftermath, he eyes Mishka's markings. Curious. But he inquires no further. ]
I'm surprised. [ He gets up from his table, tying the band around his waist. ] That was lovely. I don't think I've felt this refreshed and energised before.
no subject
Our minds align. Perhaps I ought stow away on this ship every day if only to have a little more of this.
( Half a joke, but only half.
Casually, he slips from the table, leaning in to rest his arm on his shoulder so that he might lean in conspiratorily. A little tipsy and a exceptionally happy produces a very gooey combination. )
You look novel dressed in fabric, you know. You ought try it more often.
( It sounds a bit like a tease, and it sort of is, but not a mean-spirited one. Trahearne seems so firmly dedicated to the leaf aesthetic, it is striking to see him covered up by anything else. )
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1/3 :)
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oops adds nsfw warning
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a mishka & syrlya & flynn walk into a bar
mishka > syrlya > flynn
He prods his fork at some red, sautéed mushrooms mixed with white, roasted tentacles on his plate, taking it up for a bite. )
They even have Hell's Reach here. There's a great bounty on these at home— to forge into alchemical oil, granted, but they're quite difficult to find and gather.
( To that extent, it's almost decadent to eat them. A cluster of these, when synthesized, is worth 25 gold; that could keep a man set for several lifetimes. Eating it feels almost perverse.
Such is the face of luxury, he supposes. )
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syrlya
Aphrodisiacs, hm. He does wonder if those would work on him. At home, he could say with certainty they would not; here, he can eat up poison just fine, but alcohol affects him. It's strange.
Unlike the usual smile he pitches up when he's around people, Mishka, at rest, is cool-hearted and inexpressive, as if the frosted edges of a glacier; there is no energy or presence about him, like a vast empty. However, when he hears the sound of someone coming in, like a switch, he infuses himself with being, leaving behind that glimpse of the sort of thing he is alone. He turns to see who's come in. Reflexively, he greets: )
Ah, good evening.
( He sets the box of truffles down on the bed, besides the rest of the basket, but he still has the note in hand, as he was reading it. )
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mishka, bonding massages
He eyes the goodie basket of the private suite with a glance that, to the discerning observer, might contain just a smidgen of lingering sheepishness. Instead he makes a circuit of the rest of the room, with an eye for detail he might have been too preoccupied to notice on his previous visit. They might not all be the same, after all. ]
I've never seen a ship built quite like this before. Can you believe they even managed to fit a spa on board?
[ What next? A pool? Maybe this will give Judith some ideas for renovating the Fiertia. ]
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syrlya, now with actual bar
He wonders, a little, how Syrlya is doing. Neither of his two dates is particularly easy for him to read, and it feels like prying to dig too hard into a stranger's business. But he knows how he feels whenever he's in another fight with Yuri. So despite his solemn resolve to swear off wine after Never Have I Ever, here he is, nodding in invitation towards the bar and smiling at Syrlya. ]
What do you think? Were you interested in trying something?
[ He can still get nonalcoholic, it's fine... ]
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syrlya
He seems the same as ever, which is generally deceptive. In one hand, he has a nicely-bundled up bag. It smells good enough, in the edible way. )
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[Or is it just a taskboard delivery?]
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yuri
He's only got a handful left, so camping in the mountains happened to be one such remaining contender. Tents set up, campfire crackling now that it's gotten a bit darker... and Mishka's returning with some freshly-caught game. He'd packed some meat and veggies to cook already, but... )
Do you like rabbit? It just doesn't quite feel like camping without a bit of hunting.
( ... yeah. Finding safe game to eat was kind of hit or miss back home, but it was sometimes necessary when your job asked you to travel lightly and furtively. Besides, he enjoys it.
Noticeably, though, Mishka has not gone near the fire since it was set up. He's quite good at making it seem pretty natural in the way he paths his walk, but it's not tough to figure out with a bit of thinking. Especially not with how he sets up a little station between the tents with his flashlight to start prepping the ingredients, both prepared and hunted, instead of near the fire. )
no subject
I don't mind rabbit; it doesn't have a bad taste when you know how to cook it. You a fan of hunting, then?
[ Yuri has taken notice of Mishka's aversion to the fire. He may seem like an average laid back guy, but he's actually rather observative. Living for many years in the Lower Quarter, a stint as a knight, and adventuring around the world will hone these qualities.
Anyway, he'll head over to see if he can help, and well, he does bring out some seasoning. Because of course he has some with him. ]
I'm a pretty good chef too, so I don't mind helping with the cook. Including sticking it over the fire.
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achilles
They've probably managed to get the batter ingredients dumped in a bowl, at this point glancing at the cake recipe pinned up on the wall. )
Now we mix it. I suppose a spoon will do?
( There's a line of ants dutifully marching across the wall, over the recipe, and disappearing behind the cabinets, but thus far they haven't interrupted the cooking process. They seem to break off and grab crumbs scattered too far from their work station, like polite little roombas, getting dangerously nearer each time... but they don't seem to be too much of a problem, yet. Mishka hasn't commented on them at all, as if this is normal. )
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Will the spoon get rid of all the lumps...? [ he puts a hand under his chin as he ponders on this. ] Well, just make sure to put a lot of power into it! [ always the solution here...
but, that said, when he leans in against mishka's shoulder, he does notice... that there really is a lot of ants. he isn't sure if it's discourteous to bring it up, but well achilles wasn't necessarily the type to hold back. ]
I've been thinking this for a while now, but... you might have an ant problem?
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childe
The spa was an arbitrary, but pleasant, choice; all of the activities on the ship seem equally novel, and Mishka has certainly remarked he's never traveled on a ship so large and luxurious as this one, and certainly not on the ocean (he has, at best, accompanied merchants in cargo boats along the river for a job). It is, overall, a pleasant experience.
What would not be a pleasant experience is his thoughts quite suddenly being broadcasted via thought bubbles, just as they wrap up their couples massage treatment, and the staff ushers them to try the menu of other services. Fortunately, the latent happiness effect is enough to offset the innate hostility this might invite: he's aware enough that his current bubble is him observing that he ought be upset about this, because he doesn't like people knowing his thoughts, but he strangely doesn't mind at present. He notes he'll have to reflect on this later. )
... Well, this particular quirk aside, was there anything else on the spa's menu that appeals to you?
( Mishka sits up on the table lazily, wrapping himself up the bathrobe offered to him. Mishka's body is notable for both its scars (perhaps expected for someone who knew a life of combat) and for the black, leaf-like veins that web outward from his chest and down along his limbs and body, the marks a fainter charcoal-grey the further from the source they run. There is a faint impression of his bones in black where the veins run, as if they've drawn the bones to press up against the skin, leaving marks. )
no subject
Shrugging on the bathrobe, it doesn't entirely conceal the scarring lines, nothing eye-catching, just bleak gashes slivering up the skin. It's hardly the unfading pallor that inks Mishka like some deep and heavy offense. ]
Suppose we should find a place to sit! There are a few things I've been meaning to talk to you about.
[ Not really altruism in the end, not with intentions like these. Minding the chill of the floor, he slides the flip-flops on and bids the spa personnel farewell. Leading the way out of the massage parlor like the confident creature he is, he saunters away to take a seat just outside of the studio. Plenty of places to relax here on the boat. Drumming his fingers on the table he's resting an elbow upon, Tartaglia's casual as anything. ]
Want to know what I've done in my time as part of the Fatui? [ All of his evils can be as neat as a cemetery row, laid out like he's making light of it even though it's so unforgivable. ] You can tell her later.
[ Or Mishka can keep it to himself. ]
letters
adelis
• Forged handwriting: 5 (1d20) + 11 (Deception) = 16
• Breaking in without a trace: 20 (1d20) + 11 (Sleight of Hand) + 5 (Thieves' Tools) = 36
• Leaving the letter inside unnoticed: 20 (1d20) + 11 (Stealth) = 31
One crisp morning, after the first few days of Fall, Adelis will find an envelope with his name on it on a living room table, written in fairly unfamiliar handwriting. Within the envelope is a letter, and a carefully-wrapped wheat hairpin.
The writing on the letter inside is familiar, and a study of the strokes would make it easy to assume that the handwriting on the envelope was forged by the same author. )
Though the Goddess granted this to me, it is for you. If you keep this on your person, it should reduce your hunger to a manageable degree.
—M
( There's no signs of a break-in or any marks suggesting an unfamiliar visitor, which is, perhaps, enough proof that Mishka really was there. He is always meticulous with his work.
Originally posted 02/03/23. )
ellis
The package contains:
• Vial of murky, purple liquid (Paralysis)
• Vial of clear liquid (Truth Serum)
• Vial of shining liquid (Dance Fever)
• Vial of bubbly liquid (Multiples)
• Neatly chopped, unseasoned chicken )
Ellis,
Since thanks is the theme of the season, I hope you'll like these in lieu of a selection of chocolates or charcuterie. I would warn you not to get them mixed up, however.
• Purple vial: Half a vial produces paralysis upon ingested, which lasts for about an hour. A full vial produces death, which lasts for much longer.
• Clear vial: Truth serum. This should last for about an hour.
• Shining vial: A full vial compels the drinker to dance until exhaustion. Half a vial should let them shake it off with some mental effort. How well they dance depends on the person.
• Bubble vial: A full vial causes the drinker to perceive everyone as wearing the outward appearance of the person they care for most, for about an hour. The voices and behaviors of these altered peoples will not change to match their beloved, however.
• Chicken: for Fluffy.
Have some fun with them, if you would like.
(And, should you happen to consider it, know that these won't affect me.)
—M
amber
The package contains:
• Vial of clear, pinkish liquid (Aphrodisiac)
• Vial of syrupy, purplish liquid (Sensitivity)
• Vial of viscous, orange liquid (Stamina)
• ... and a cute hair clip with a cute necklace. )
Amber,
I'll take good care of the friend you left me. I hope you might like these, as well. While you may enjoy taking all the vials together, you're free to do with them as you wish.
• Pink vial: A few drops of this aphrodisiac should last you about an hour, but you're free to take more if you're feeling especially ambitious.
• Purple vial: This one, likewise, ought grant about an hour of improved sensitivity with just a few drops, but who am I to spoil your fun?
• Orange vial: A full vial should last you about an hour of improved endurance and stamina, so choose which session it ought apply to wisely. You can take half a vial for a halved effect and length of effectiveness.
The rest, I simply thought might look nice on you. I hope they're to your liking.
—M
trahearne
Trahearne,
Out of appreciation for our friendship, I thought you might like this. I am no expert on magic, but if a coconut will suffice, then it is my hope this may fare a little better on your behalf. You really must tell me more about your style of fighting one day.
—M
vanitas
He has with him a little basket of some warm lemon-glazed banana bread, quilted with edible flowers, and wrapped up all cute with a tattersall pattern fabric. The bread itself is just okay and the glaze is maybe a little too sweet, but, hey, a snack is a snack. )
no subject
Oh? What do we have here?
[ What, exactly, is Mishka here for, he wonders... ]
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ellis
(And he has grown fond of him, but that is neither here nor there.)
Sometime during the last third or so of the month, Mishka knocks on the door, as he has every day, with a nice open basket of sweet bread made with sweetened fruit, and powdered with sugar. He's not really shy about the weather or his body, but he's taken to wearing long sleeves and high collars in tandem with the steady progression of his curse.
On this evening, he wears gloves. )
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After settling to sit down in the living room with the coffee table or in the kitchen (up to Mishka's preference), Ellis sets things down and notices the gloves. Hm. He tries to stabilize the condition more today, to see if he can push it further. ]
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